


Smiles

by unrestricted_obsessions



Series: When All Else Fades, Will You Return to Me? [4]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt, Friendship/Love, Grief/Mourning, Home, Hurt Bilbo Baggins, Implied Relationships, M/M, Memories, Poor Bilbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:22:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28199808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unrestricted_obsessions/pseuds/unrestricted_obsessions
Summary: Bilbo remembers his smile.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Series: When All Else Fades, Will You Return to Me? [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2054544
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	Smiles

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Hands](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10715661) by [AngelynMoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelynMoon/pseuds/AngelynMoon). 



> As always, feedback and constructive criticism is welcome and encouraged.

Smiles were often praised, glorified by... everyone, really. Everyone except Bilbo. After his parent's death, there wasn't all that much to smile about anymore. They were merely an inconvenience, yet another thing he had to maintain for his neighbours and social approval. 

His world had been flipped upside down at the arrival of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. There had been the hint of a new, true smile when he ran off with a hastily packed backpack, the contract trailing behind him as he leapt over fences, but at the beginning of the Quest there were certainly no smiles. He was moodier than ever, having to put up with such drastic changes in comfort without complaint, if he was to ever have any hope of the dwarrows treating him even decently. 

But then... then they had realised his intentions of joining them, his determination to stay, as well as his courage and loyalty through the defense of their leader. Once again, he was pushed into a new experience, a new way of living, full of laughter and joy. Smiles were no longer simply something to be falsified, but pure and happy.

With his developing friendship to Thorin, his rare to non-existent smiles appeared more often, reserved for their burglar. They were hardly noticeable, and yet so bright, so genuine, if a little hesitant and awkward. Bilbo would miss that smile terribly, but Thorin proved to have many more smiles in tow for him. There were similar, discreet smiles in the short moments of peace from that day at the Carrock onward, but the first time Thorin's smiles changed, it was through madness. The King had begun to admire his hobbit as, well, _his_. His prized possession amidst cursed gold and jewels, the only person he could trust within the entire earth. They were the expressions Bilbo wanted to forget, when the dwarf who was once so secluded and gentle could stare at him as if he was an object, merely intended for display.

The next time Bilbo had seen a smile, Thorin lay dying on the ice. He panicked, rushing to stop the bleeding, but his hands trembled as it felt futile. The dwarf merely stared at him, looking so surprised at the hobbit's persistance to stay at his side that it pained the poor Baggins. This was far too much than he had wanted to get himself into, and it hurt so much, yet he didn't regret a single second of it.

"Bilbo," he choked out, barely audible. He sounded urgent, glad to see his friend but hurrying to speak despite the obvious strain it took.

"No, don't move – don't move. Lay still." He sounded a lot more stable and confident than he felt.

Suddenly, merely stopping the bloodflow (quite amateurishly) hadn't felt like enough, so Bilbo hesitantly lifted his hand, inspecting the wound only to gag at the sight and the smell. He trembled thinking that Thorin truly was dying. As said dwarf began to speak, no doubt wishing to apologise or spout some dramatic farewell speech, the hobbit tried to shush him. There was no need, it would only cause that much more anguish, worsening the wound and only making him leave faster. It would make everything far too real. Without realising he had spoken, Bilbo actively denied the inevitable circumstances. Thorin would live if he could do anything about it.

"I would take back my words and deeds at the gate."  
Oh no. No, this was not something he could tolerate right now. What an idiotic dwarf, trying to apologise while at death's door!  
"You did only what a true friend would."  
Thorin's eyes crinkled as his voice lowered to a hush, simultaneously lowering the time they had left, so much remorse in his expression that Bilbo couldn't stand it.  
"Forgive me," he said, "I was too blind to see it. I am sorry that I have led you into such peril."

The hobbit almost looked away as Thorin spluttered and sobbed over his words. 

"No- Thorin don't you dare start that now. I am glad to have shared in your perils, each and every one of them. It is far more than any Baggins deserves. You have found in me the courage that I have needed, and for that I thank you."

Tears threatened to overflow down his cheek, but he couldn't pull away to stay them, Thorin reaching to hold his hand and gently pull it away from the wound. His smile was so soft, seeming completely focused on the hobbit and utterly besotted, in a much purer and yet so much more intoxicating way than the dragonsickness before it.

"Farewell, Master Burglar. Go back to your books, and your armchair. Plant your trees, watch them grow."

"If more people... valued home above gold, this world... would be a merrier place."  
Bilbo supposed that was true, but home for him was no longer in books, armchairs and trees. Home was now in Thorin's smile, and he would be losing it very soon. A heart without a home would be horribly numb.

Bilbo's breathing grew rapid at the dazed look growing in Thorin's eyes, that very smile fading from existence. He panicked and clutched tighter at his hand, wishing to keep him for just a little longer.

"No- no, no, no, no. No! Thorin-" All stability and confidence had left him now, his voice wavering and cracking, dry and full of dread.  
"Thorin, don't you dare."

It was too late. Thorin couldn't, or didn't, listen, heaving out a laboured breath, relaxing and stiffening all at once when he became still.

Bilbo was moments away from sobbing openly, but instead he shifted to be closer to Thorin, leaning down beside him and gesturing to the air, patting his chest, which was only slightly moving.

"Thorin. Thorin, look. Look. The eagles- the eagles. The eagles are here. Thorin." He felt almost like falling into insanity himself at that moment, recalling the last time he had seen eagles, also fretting over his dwarf, but that time he had a chance of recovering, and he did. This time...

For a moment, he wanted to continue trying, assuring Thorin that the eagles were there, but he broke off, giving up and moving away from his dying friend beside him. Now he truly did cry, quite weakly and painfully, despair in every corner of his little body, right into the depths of his toes. He hunched over and covered his vision, rocking slightly on the cold, harsh ground and letting out a whimper. He would never be able to describe that feeling of sheer and utter hopelessness. Quite tentatively he leaned to Thorin again, pressing a ghostly kiss both to the back of his coarse hand and the cold skin of his cheek.

Very soon after, Gandalf found them, shortly followed by the entire Company. The battle was over, but Thorin had fallen. At the very least, Fili and Kili had been saved. The Line of Durin had not failed, and perhaps that meant something, but all it meant to Bilbo was that two less of his friends had perished. Thorin was, however, still breathing, and he was rushed to the healing tents to be tended by Oin. Again, Bilbo had to disagree with their thoughts. It was pointless, but he couldn't blame them for hoping, as they hadn't seen the light fade from the King's expression.

So he left. As quietly and with as little fuss as possible, though that was hardly possible with stubborn dwarves, and he ended up extending an invitation to Bag End for whenever they wished. A few months later and no visit had arrived, nor even any letter. He supposed it was reasonable, they would all be far too busy with the restoration of Erebor, though it did hurt to so suddenly lose everyone. Perhaps it was best, so that he could settle back to life in the Shire a little easier.

He would have to try and make it home, after all. To feel comfortable again, it would take a lot of time.


End file.
